


Mehndi

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance, challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim, Blair, and their own traditions</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mehndi

## Mehndi

#### by Aouda Fogg

  
Not mine, despite my best efforts to claim them. No infringement intended, no money being made.   
  
Another challenge response on SenThurs -- this time Challenge #88: Tattoo. No warnings, no spoilers.  
This story is a sequel to: 

* * *

It wasn't my idea to spend the night apart last night, but I've managed to learn several things about Sandburg in the years since he appeared in my life. Things like the fact that he loves tradition, and if said tradition gets mixed with ritual? Better and better as far as he's concerned. Then there's the fact that when dealing with Blair Sandburg, it really is better to pick one's battles, and since I didn't need to discuss the issue any further -- this whole, larger thing had been my idea after all, so I knew what I wanted -- I figured why the hell not? And if it made him happy? Well, better and better as far as _I_ was concerned. 

So, I'd grabbed my clothes for today and my shaving kit and decamped to Steven's place. My little brother thought it was pretty funny, but considering it's a major step that we're spending enough time with each other that he _could_ be amused by me, I was willing to let it slide. 

Besides, I figure a man should be generous on his wedding day. 

Which is why I'm standing here, trying to tell myself that I have no reason to be nervous, waiting for Blair to appear from around the corner of the hedges. It's a beautiful day, and the bank of the small stream cutting across this part of Jensen Park was a good choice for a location, if I do say so myself. We only have two witnesses; Stephen is mine, Naomi is Blair's. We're having all our friends over tomorrow for a party where we'll tell them what we did, but this part, this part is really just for us. And despite not being officially recognized, this ceremony felt way more _real_ than the one I'd had that was actually legal. Who knows, maybe once the world gets its head out of its ass and figures out that me marrying Sandburg isn't one of the signs of the Apocalypse we'll do it again, but for now, this blessing will do us. 

And here he comes, finally. He's walking with his mother, grinning at me, the look in his eyes for me alone. I grin back. It isn't until he's almost to me that I notice that he's barefoot. It takes me a moment to figure out that the red-brown on his feet isn't socks or a weird pair of sandals; it looks like henna, if I'm not mistaken. And it's beautiful -- the designs are intricate, delicate, ornate. They continue up under his pants, and I'm seized by a sudden desire to see just how far up they go. Somehow, though, despite how liberal this minister Blair found is, I don't think she's going to be real thrilled with me stripping my partner right in front of her. 

I take his hand. "Nice," I say, ever the eloquent one. Hopefully the look in my eyes is taking up some of the slack. 

"I knew you'd like it." 

"Yeah, well, you know me, Sandburg." 

"That I do, Jim. Let's do this thing." 

And so we do. 

* * *

I guess it's nice to know that I'm still shockable because when Jim asked me if I wanted to do some kind of blessing or ceremony to make the commitment we'd made to each other official, I was pretty shocked. It wasn't that I didn't think he loved me, just that Jim isn't too into the whole tradition kind of thing, and besides, he'd already been through it once. 

The fact that he was willing to do this with me, however, touched me deeply in a couple little places I hadn't even realized were there. 

Saying yes hadn't been nearly as hard as I feared. 

He left most of the details up to me. I've known Jenna for years, and her brand of religion -- Judeo-Christian underpinnings sprinkled liberally with Pagan overtones, to say nothing of PhDs in Anthropology and Archeology -- seemed like the perfect fit to conduct the ceremony. I'd suggested the park; Jim picked the site. We'd decided on the parts of the blessing together. But I still wanted to do _something_ for myself, some kind of gesture that marked the end of my official status as single and transition into being married. 

I'd thought about it for weeks. I even pulled out some of my old texts and flipped through them looking for inspiration. And then I finally found it. Mehndi. Perhaps it was more traditionally known for brides, but there's precedent for grooms wearing it, too. I found a great place and had it done last night; mom had gotten some, too, but on her hands. Then I went home and slept on the couch -- I laughed at myself, but sleeping upstairs in the big bed didn't seem quite right. Tonight, though? Oh, yeah. Although I'm not too sure sleeping is going to be our main, uh, focus. 

Of course Jim noticed right away. The look in his eyes as he took in the designs made me gasp quietly; it also made me want to remove my pants right there so he could see how far up my legs it goes. Jenna's pretty open, but somehow, I don't think so. Besides, my mom was right beside me, and that's just, well, eww. So I let the promise of later show in my eyes and we got underway. It wasn't a long ceremony, just some vows we wrote, a couple blessings from different places around the world -- including one from the Chopec -- Jim crushed the glass since I was barefoot, and we were done. 

A couple hours later, Jim shut the door with gentle emphasis and leaned back against it, his hands behind him as he locked the door without looking. He was looking at me, a quiet smile curling his mouth. 

I let my fingers play along the buttons of my shirt. "So, Jim, you know, I learned last night that for a wedding, the henna designs include the newlyweds' names, and that the wedding night can't really start until the groom has found both names." 

"Really," Jim drawled at me. 

"Yep," I nodded slowly and slipped my shirt off my shoulders. My hands went for the button on my pants. His fingers mirrored the action on his own pants. "And tradition also holds that no housework has to be done until the mehndi fades." 

It took a few moments for that to sink in since Jim was focused on what my fingers were doing, not what I was saying. 

Tearing his eyes away from my fly, Jim slanted a cocky grin at me. "When exactly did you do housework _before_ now?" 

My fingers froze mid zipper-slide. "Uh, `scuse me? Who was on his hands and knees with a scrub brush in the bathtub last weekend?" 

I watched the look on Jim's face change as he remembered what had happened when he'd stepped into the bathroom to ask me where something was and been confronted by my backside as I leaned into the tub. Let's just say the scrubbing didn't get finished until the next day. 

"Oh, yeah, that was a good day." 

I decided to forgive him. 

I let my pants slip to the floor and watched breathlessly has he took in just how far up the designs went. I'd had the woman go above the knee on one leg, and the other finished with an intricate flourish on my left thigh. Each dart of Jim's eyes felt like a caress. 

Jim finally cleared his throat. "I don't suppose you asked if --" 

"'Course I did -- and yes, you can." 

He grabbed my hand and we made it up the stairs and onto our bed in record time. And his promise as we ran up the stairs that he was going to find our names with his tongue? Well, Jim always keeps his promises. 

* * *

End 

Mehndi by Aouda Fogg: aoudafogg@yahoo.com  
Author and story notes above.

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